Page 68 of A Touch of Dark
Performance? I’m not sure just which show he’s referring to. When he drugged me? Or all those nights of taunting him through his bugs?
“Again, what if I am?”
“So that’s a yes, then.” He sits back in his chair and folds his hands before him. If anything, he doesn’t look satisfied with the answer he stole. His chest rises and falls, betraying harsh, slowed breathing. I do believe I may have upset the stone-cold Mr. Villa. I just wish I knew how.
“I’m invoking my rule,” I say, hating how my voice shakes. Damn him for making me feel even a shadow of self-consciousness. “Why the hell does it matter to you?”
He breathes in sharply. Exhales even more harshly. “Because I want to proposition…proposean exchange.”
“An exchange for what?” I ask stupidly.
He frowns, and then it clicks.Oh.
He wants to take my virginity. I let my eyes close again, for longer this time. My head spins. A part of me assumes I misheard him, but no. He throws off anger like heat from a furnace, infuriated. Annoyed. At himself? As strange as it feels to consider, I don’t sense that his rage is directed at me.
No bother, because I feel more than enough fury for both of us.
“So no wonder you ‘apologized.’ Have you decided to replace murder with rape?”
He’s a more equally matched opponent when I can’t see him. I’m forced to feel what my eyes overlook. The tension lacing his posture. The unease emanating from his end. Every forced breath he takes in his desperate quest to maintain control.
“I don’t want to rape you,” he snarls, sounding disgusted by the prospect. I open my eyes and find him scowling. “How should I put it in a way you might understand? I want to fuck you, Juliana. More specifically, I want use of your body, at my discretion.”
He could have said,“I want to shake your hand and be done with it,”and I doubt his inflection would have changed any.
“Let me guess. You want to deflower me in some sick way of getting back at my father?” I push back from the table so violently that his pizza slice falls to the floor. “Have a good fucking night in the literal sense. I’m sure your right hand will make a nice substitute for me—”
“Sit down.”
I don’t. But I don’t storm from the room, either. I wait, breath bated, shoulders squared, my body thrumming with more indignation, hate, rage, and shame than I have ever felt at one time.
“I don’t want you because of your father,” he snaps. “I could think of several much less taxing ways on my part to humiliate him.”
He sounds far too stern for jokes. It’s the truth. And I now feel a sudden urge to warn my father of the danger he’s really in. First things first. “So then why?”
“The experience,” he says, as if he’s used to picking and choosing which life milestones to conquer on a whim. “I’ve never had a virgin.”
I scoff at the word use. Had. “So, I’d be just another trophy in your collection?”
“I’m willing to abide by your terms.” He doesn’t bother denying it.
Ah. No wonder he’s been so accommodating with dinner.
“Take your offer and shove it up your ass, Mr. Villa,” I say sweetly. “My body isn’t for sale. Though I have to commend you for being the first man I’ve ever met who was so disgustingly honest about only wanting to get into my pants.”
“Don’t play coy with me.” He pushes back from the table as well but remains seated. “I was there, Ms. Thorne, when you kissed me—”
“You kissedme!”
“I felt you. I heard you, if you haven’t forgotten your little display. And…”
I don’t see him reach out until it’s too late. He snatches my wrist, tugging me against him. My hands scramble for purchase over his shoulders, but he tugs harder, nearly forcing me onto his lap. His free hand cinches my waist with breathtaking familiarity. I’m trapped.
“I must remind you that I have a remarkable sense of smell.”
I bite my lip, torn between slapping him again and running. Or both. I attempt to wrench my wrist free, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t tighten his grip, either, teasing me with a glimpse of freedom.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
